Emma’s laugh is warm against my cheek as she sneaks a kiss there. Jay’s nostrils flare when she clocks it.
“We’re happy, alright?” I tell the group, though mostly Jay, as I tug Emma closer by the waist. I know how it looks. We’re putting on a show. We’re trying too hard to bein love.Because after six years of marriage and two kids, no couple could possibly still act like this. But it’s not for show. I’m hopelessly, ridiculously in love with my wife, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.
And I’m pretty sure she feels the same way.
Her arm slides behind me, fingers drawing lazy circles at the base of my neck. If I had longer hair, she’d probably be twisting it around her finger. The brush of her touch sends a shiver of desire swimming through me, andI grip her hip tighter. I feel the subtle rise and fall of her chest against my arm, and it makes me want to forget everyone else in the room.
“Let’s sneak out of here,” I murmur, and she smiles.
“One more song!” Dad declares, hauling himself up from the booth and making a beeline for the karaoke machine.
Emma hides her laugh in my shoulder, her teeth catching her lip as she pulls her hand from my neck and straightens. I groan like a sulky teenager, dropping my hand from her hip as we turn to watch Dad cue up his track. I could shake the man for being a mood killer.
He throws me a wink, and my jaw tightens. Emma’s touch has me wound so tight and buzzing with energy. I can’t stop my legs from bouncing.
“Careful, you’ll run right on out of here,” Emma teases, her hand softly cupping my knee. It’s the same gesture I do for her when she’s wound up. Only hers isn’t restless like mine; it’s anxiety. The bouncing of her legs is a quiet signal of nerves. Mine? Just the sheer desire to get out of here and be alone with my wife.
I give her a small smile just as Dad announces, “Steven, you have to take Mom’s place.” My nostrils flare and lips press into a tight line at this, but everyone else laughs.
I want to protest, whine,“I already went!”But Mom’s eager eyes settle on me, and the weight of the moment lands hard. Like Dad said this afternoon when he invited us…this could be our last one. The last karaoke night as a whole family—or at least one of the last she’ll remember.
Emma nudges me gently, encouraging, just as “Islands in the Stream” begins to play overhead.
“You’re coming with me,” I instruct, tugging her up from the couch. Mom claps, thrilled, and Emma resists for a beat. But only for show. She’s living for this. We join Dad under the now pink and yellow flashing lights, singing Dolly Parton’s part together. Our harmonies are horrid, and Dadadds a soulful twang to his line. Together, it sounds terrible. But we go all in, finishing the song to a raucous standing ovation.
“That was great,” India claps halfheartedly. “Can we go now?” She’s barely hanging on, exhaustion weighing her body and eyelids down.
“Alright, let’s go.” Dad smiles, turning the microphones off. “Y’all are getting old.”
“I believe it’syouwho is old now, sixty-two,” I joke, clapping him on the back as we head to our cars.
He waves me and this nugget of information off as he helps Mom climb into the cab of his truck. I watch as he buckles her in and kisses her forehead before walking around to the driver’s side. The cold night air whooshes past, stinging the tips of my ears. I jump to Emma’s side, wrapping my arms around her like a human shield. Neither of us brought jackets.
“Thanks,” she says through chattering teeth as we hobble together to the car. Once there, I find myself mirroring my dad. Buckling Emma in and kissing her. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t call me out on copying. She saw my dad too. She just gazes up at me, our faces not even an inch apart as I hover over her in the passenger side. The cold air crawls in through the open door.
“I love you,” she says, her cold hand cupping my jaw.
“I love you,” I say back, meaning every ounce of the word. “You make me the happiest man alive.”
“Really?” she asks, and I know she’s joking, but something in me ignites at the question. Like I need to make sure she knows how happy she makes me. I tell her to wait as I shut her door and rush to the other side and climb in, cranking the heat. I rub our hands together, creating warmth there, then rub along her arms, feeling the shivers race across her skin as I do. Once we’re both warm and our teeth aren’t chattering, I take her hands in mine and hold them against my mouth, my tongue grazing her knuckles as I rest my lips there. I can’t help but close my eyes and sink into the feeling; thecontact of even just her knuckles is enough to render me speechless. My eyes flutter open, and I inhale, the scent of her wrapping around me. Her earthy bodywash, her floral lotion, the small hint of sunscreen from her face moisturizer, the smell of pasta from the food she cooked for the boys, everything that makes herherconsuming my senses.
“Emma, I am so happy.” My tone is serious, and her eyes widen. Her mouth opens to interject, but I add, “I know you know. And I’m sure I don’tneedto dwell on it, but I need you to know just how happy you make me.” She listens patiently as I find the words to say.
“I don’t want a life without you. I don’t want to be away from you for more than half a day. I want to grow old with you, have more babies with you, and die holding hands like they did in that movie you like.”
“The Notebook,” she adds, smiling.
“I have been obsessed with you—in a healthy, non-stalker way—since the moment I met you. You are everything to me. You’re an amazing mother, a wonderful person, and an even better cook.”
She cackles at this. Emma is the worst cook—her words not mine.
“I think our life together is wonderful. It’s not perfect, but it’s the closest thing I’ll ever get to that. And I…” my voice cracks unexpectedly. “I hope you’re happy too.”
Her hands are on my face now, swiping at the dampness settling below my eyes.
“I am,” she says, smiling. “I am the happiest woman alive because of you.”
The past few hours flicker through my mind like a film I didn’t realize I should’ve been paying closer attention to. The things I dismissed as minute now feel important.
